It was a simple plan. Assemble around Ronin, trap him and kill him. Maya and Kazi had gone through the plan multiple times. This was important to Maya—She was finally getting revenge for her father's murder. Maya knew that this kill would taint her hands in blood (figuratively and literally), she knew you wouldn’t appreciate her walking in your home with a bruised body and empty, pizza-less hands. But she would make it up to you—she always had.
If Maya wasn't a private person, she would also brag about you in front of her men. Oh, how pretty you were and how putty you were in her hands. A person—a good person like you didn’t belong anywhere near her, but Maya just couldn’t resist, and luckily neither did you.
At the beginning of your relationship, Maya despised herself for being selfish—for dragging sweet, gentle you into her cruel and uncaring world. But you taught her that it was okay to want—to desire someone, and once she came to terms with that, she hadn’t stopped desiring you ever since.
It was a simple plan, and yet, they still failed. The person they presumed to be Ronin was just Clint in Ronan's suit. And he took out her men before she could even figure out their absence. She had to admit—he was good and so was his partner/best friend, Kate. Contrary to what Kazi might say, She didn’t hate Kate and Clint. Both of them and their dynamic reminded Maya of her and your relationship.
But in her defense, everything reminded Maya of you. When one of her men talked about Imagine Dragons and his girlfriend, it reminded her of the time you took her to your favorite band’s concert. When Kate recklessly jumped in to save Clint, it reminded her of the first time she met you and how impulsively you punched someone without proper form to defend her.
She wouldn't admit this aloud, but she was glad Clint got away. She wanted to make her way home to you as soon as possible. It was date night, and she could not show up late without pizza, but she was also heavily injured.
On the other hand, it would have been an understatement if someone said you were mad because you were fuming. Maya was late for date night again. You understood that her line of work required her, but she could have at least texted you. It was one thing to be late and another to not inform you at all.
When you heard keys clattering, you were ready to give your girlfriend a piece of your mind, but you were met with a bruised and battered Maya instead. Instantly, your anger was replaced by concern, and you made your way towards her, wrapping your arms around her waist as she swayed a bit.
Maya's expression morphed into one of pain when your hand touched the small of her back.
“Sorry,” you mouthed immediately, loosening your touch around her as you made her walk towards your shared bedroom.
As she took a seat on the bed, she closed her eyes forcefully in pain. You knelt in front of her and handed her the Advil with a glass of water. Once she downed the painkiller, you placed the glass on the side table as you pressed the antiseptic at the wound.
“I'll be gentle,” you demonstrated, lightly dabbing the cotton swab on the reddened area.
When the painkillers kicked in and the pain subsided, she studied your face and noticed you were holding back tears—it hurt you to see her hurt. Maya had never known this sort of unconditional love. In her profession, love was bought with favors, but you—you were different. You just gave her everything without demanding anything back in return, and Maya would give her life for your happiness. She would also take the lives of the ones that even thought of hurting you. She was so enchanted by you that she didn’t even notice when you placed a band-aid around her injury.
Furthermore, she wrapped her fingers around your wrist as you began to stand up and walk away. You frowned, looking at her with a quirked brow.
“You are beautiful,” she signed, making your lips tug upwards as you shook your head and bent down to connect your lips with hers in a soft kiss.
After throwing away the remnants of cotton and preparing a bath, you walked back inside the bedroom. You took her hands in yours, tugging her to stand up as you helped her remove her bloodied clothes.
You were meticulous of her injuries as you helped her undress. And once you settled in the bathtub, her back against your chest; you pulled her closer, peppering kisses and words of comfort in her hair. She couldn’t understand what you were saying, but it calmed her nonetheless.
Reaching for the shower gel, you squirted some on your hands, rubbing the lather around her body with utmost care. Paying extra attention to the sore areas, you rubbed and massaged as she lightly exhaled and rested her head on your shoulder.
After you cleaned her up, you wrapped a bathrobe around her before doing the same to yourself. Taking her hand in yours again, you led her to the comfort of your bed.
When you were settled in, her head resting on your chest, legs tangled together; you laced your hands around her frame, igniting her body with warmth. Maya placed a warm palm on your face, rubbing her thumb across your cheekbone in a soothing manner, the same way you were rubbing your fingers on her spine.
As sleep almost engulfed both of you, Maya took her hand out of your grasp, signaling, “I'm sorry for ruining date night. I will make it up to you.”
If you weren’t so exhausted, you would have smiled or told her to not worry. Her health was more important. She was the most important person in your life and nothing mattered to you more.
“Oh, baby,” you sighed, pulling her closer and removing the minuscule distance between you. You pressed a kiss on her forehead as you whispered assurance to her sleeping form. “I know you will. You always do.”